Perhaps I cracked a rib. Or bruised it. Or pulled a muscle. At any rate, my right side hurts. A lot.
Maybe what happened is that I became so full of self-pity that I actually split. Down the side. Just a little.
No. More. Sad.
And like that it’s done. I know I’m blessed to be able to mostly shake it off so. I know many people who can stay in sad for a long, long while. This gal cannot. I think I’d get too comfortable and end up moving in. Sometimes it’s a really beautiful place. The trees always look better, you know? Gnarled, twisted, Burtonesque masterpieces.
But nope.
I wrote a new show. It’s magickal (that’s not a type-o, magic is more magical with a “k”), and when my super star choreographer injects her genius into it, and the gals get their hands on it, I think it’s going to be the greatest thing we’ve done yet. I’ve started working on the costumes, and imagining how it will look in our new venue and I’m so, so very excited. I think it will be ready by February, just when everyone needs something to get excited about.
I’m also doing lots of research about the medium we’ve chosen. Cabaret is unique in how much the audience is part of the show, which is something I’ve always loved about performing.
A revelation hit me the other day, when I holed up here, shirked all of my housework responsibilities and just wrote. I think I’m attracted to really brilliant workaholics because I myself know I need to focus more on my own art. Since I’ve started doing this, I feel much, much more like I am really in my skin.
And so I look you in the eye and say “ha”. I can walk with my head high and a smile on my face, and know that as long as my ribs can hold out, I’m gonna be just fine.
Wouldn’t it be fun to have someone to kiss? Just a little?